


Chance encounters in The City of Magpies

by serafinaspiccolo



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, courtship by means of fire safety lessons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafinaspiccolo/pseuds/serafinaspiccolo
Summary: Canon-divergence. Marisa and Mary stumble upon each other in Cittàgazze. And then they do it again, and again, perhaps a few too many times for it to be just down to chance.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Mary Malone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. The first time

**Author's Note:**

> Marisa's pov here sort of follows on from my other fic The Scholar but it's not essential to read that first because it's nothing particularly OOC. This is very much a work in progress but I'm expecting there to be at least another two chapters where things actually happen, this first one is just preamble oops.

The first time that Marisa saw Mary, it caught her so off-guard that she almost tripped on the uneven paving slabs beneath her feet. Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately straightened her posture but Carlo was so far away now that she needn't have worried. She'd left him absorbed in some self-obsessed speech or other that was boring Marisa out of her mind. _We could do great things together, Marisa. I can help you find Lyra. You need me._ And then what?He'd co-parent? She had rolled her eyes and hoped that if she wandered off she'd find something more interesting. And she had. Mary was paused on the street running parallel to the one she and Carlo were on, just visible between a gap in the buildings. She was sat haphazardly on the ground like a child with no care that she may dirty her clothes and didn't seem to notice Marisa hovering nearby, watching her. Her legs were splayed out to her sides and her head bowed, curving her back into an inelegant position as she focused on her work. The book she was craning over was one that Marisa recognised from her office a few days prior. She remembered seeing it piled on top of papers which she'd pretended to be studying as Mary was bombarding her with questions, flitting around the room all smiles and fiery hair and friendliness, asking her about her work, her _publications_. Marisa had panicked, fled the office and walked as fast as she could back to Boreal. That night she'd convinced herself that she could erase the memory of Dr Malone from her mind, pretend that she didn't exist at all. It was easier than acknowledging her own wasted potential. But here she was again. Rubbing it in her face with every scuff on her shoes and out-of-place curl. The exaggerated flare of her trouser legs waved mockingly at Marisa in the breeze, even the heavyweight cotton material was freer than her. The afternoon sun seemed to be making Mary hot and she lifted her head momentarily so that she could use her book as a fan. Marisa lept behind a wall and cursed her choice of noisy footwear, cursed her poorly considered movements. It was so unlike her to be so flustered. Marisa Coulter is not the sort of woman to cower but she daren't move in case the smack of heels on stone betrayed her once more. There was no way she could navigate another conversation with that woman, especially not with Carlo inching ever closer.

Faced with nothing to do but wait, she let her mind wander, thinking of how it would be to be the woman of the other side of the wall, about how she very much wasn't her, how she was stuck within herself and the caricature she'd been forced to create in order to survive, stuck with the odds stacked permanently against her and insufferable men in her way at every turn. The image of Dr Malone wouldn't leave her alone. She looked in every way what Marisa had been taught to recognise as untidy and improper, from her practical shirt to her backpack to the way she sat. Her coat was unflattering, her smile too wide, her field of work too intellectual.

Marisa reasoned that Mary probably hadn't expected to be witnessed. They were in an abandoned city on the other side of a gateway between worlds for The Authority's sake. She couldn't deny that she was surprised that her and Carlo- crawling closer to back within earshot now -weren't alone here. Mary wasn't to know that anyone would see her like this. But Mary wouldn't alter a thing about her appearance even if she was expecting to be seen, would she? She wouldn't change her trousers or hold her head higher. She wouldn't suck in her stomach and fasten her jacket tighter before stepping in front of a crowd. Her hair wouldn't be held with so many pins that her scalp was numb with pain, ankles scraped by the straps of high heels. She would look just as she does now. Just so very-

"Marisa? _There_ you are. I was starting to think you were trying to escape me." Marisa was yanked out of her trance. 

"Carlo." She pushed Dr Malone out of her mind and quickly regained her well-practised composure, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face as she led them both away from the physicist. "I would never."

* * *

The first time that Mary saw Marisa, she thought she was a mirage. She was just a faint sound of footsteps and a khaki green shoulder disappearing behind a wall. Perhaps it was just the heat making her hallucinate- surely there were no other adults here? She'd just imagined the feeling of being watched for the past ten minutes, right?


	2. Playing with fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update feat. our favourite chaotic wine-drunk disaster.

The second time Mary saw Marisa, it was much later. The last of the sunlight was kissing Cittàgazze's rooftops goodbye and she'd finally taken nature's hint that she ought to find somewhere to rest. Absentmindedly, she'd found herself back at the plaza where Lyra had been staying. She thought she saw her there, actually. Sat right there at the bistro table, was that the boy with her? Her pace quickened briefly before she realised that it wasn't Lyra, it was the mysterious woman again. Since her puzzling sighting earlier, she been plagued with worry that whatever it was she had been granted "protection" from would find the other woman. Her instinct told her to run over and warn her about the danger but something stopped her feet from moving at all. It was familiarity. The strange notion that she'd seen the figure, half in shadow, half illuminated by candlelight, somewhere before. There was something about the way she held herself like there were strings attached to her shoulder blades, the elegant way she lifted a hand and inched it over- towards- what was she doing? Mary yelped as her brain finished processing what she was seeing. She couldn't help it. She called out, "Wait! Be careful!" The woman snapped her head up to face her and, despite the distance between them and the dim light, Mary knew instantly why she recognised her. It was Lyra's mother. The woman who had come to visit her earlier this week and left right in the middle of their conversation. She was here in Cittàgazze. 

"I-" she stumbled closer to the table and Lyra's mum, Marisa wasn't it?, stood up and met her halfway. She noticed her swaying and as she got closer, slightly closer than Mary found comfortable, she could smell the heady scent of wine on her breath. 

"Can I help you?" She drawled and Mary let out a nervous laugh. 

"It's just that putting your hand so close to a burning flame isn't very safe, you know."

Marisa smirked. Dr Malone was hitting her with that inquisitive attitude again but this time she had the upper hand. She was well-versed in deflecting patronising comments sheathed in the pretence of help. 

"Maybe that was the point..." The suggestive raise of her eyebrow that accompanied the retort was instinctive. It was a gesture she had perfected over the years to please the men in her life, just dangerous enough to enthral them but always followed by a sweet smile to keep them feeling like they were in charge. The perfect way to claw back control. Surely it wouldn't work with Mary? Unless... 

She didn't really know why she was doing it. Was it purely instinct? Perhaps it was more likely the wine, the unhinged mental state she'd let herself slip into believing she was alone or the leftover adrenaline from finally ridding her life of Carlo Boreal (who, by the way, was perilously close to being seen by Dr Malone if only she was looking.) Whatever her motivation was, Marisa giggled and leant closer to whisper into Mary's ear, "I don't need you to babysit me, Dr Malone." She heard the other woman's breath hitch and relished the familiar feeling of power pulsing through her veins. 

"I-Um-" Mary pushed Marisa away and looked at her square in the eyes. "You're in danger."

She huffed. "From a little fire?"

"No. There's... these... you just need to be careful. Get back to Oxford. I thought you said you and Lyra were going away?"

Marisa gestured to the unfamiliar square around them, _is this not far enough away?_ , and shrugged. "I am not afraid of the spectres."

"Do you-" Mary started but was cut off. "Know how to control them? Yes."  
Mary didn't get the chance to say that this very much wasn't what she was going to ask because Marisa was already stumbling back to the table.

"If that's all, Dr Malone. I have some dangerous fire to play with." She cooed over her shoulder and Mary stammered a goodbye, wondering how on Earth she was going to sleep after this.


	3. A big red sign on her forehead that read 'danger'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marisa starts taking chance into her own hands and causes them both to have minor crises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have a few notes on this chapter oops. Firstly, SO sorry it's been a few weeks since chapter two, I've been unexpectedly really busy but I'll have more time to write again now. This is a bit more hurt/comfort than originally advertised, but Marisa just has so much baggage (and I don't just mean the suitcase with Lyra inside.) Also, I'm not sure if this is accurate in terms of how she communicates with her daemon but I assume they must have some kind of mental dialogue given that the golden monkey never speaks so this is my best guess.
> 
> *I'm gonna go ahead and give a tw for mild self-harm just in case (read until the first line then skip to after the second to avoid it <3)*

Marisa waited until she heard Mary leave the square, counted to ten and ten again and then finally dared to drop her facade, to loosen her posture and hang her head in confusion. She collapsed back into the chair opposite Carlo and let out a shaky breath. What the hell was that? 

Ozymandias looked concernedly up at her from his hiding place and she sighed again, more from irritation than relief this time. 

"What?"

Marisa knew that she was acting dangerously, that sooner or later the mess she'd left in her wake was going to catch up with her, and these sightings of Mary Malone were the last thing she needed. What was she even doing here? and why did events decide to put them together like this? One chance meeting was enough. Two was too many. Yet, as her daemon peered up at her again, she knew that truthfully she did want to see Mary again. She was exciting, intelligent, kind and when she had asked about her work, she had done so with genuine enthusiasm and no hint of malice. Perhaps they could have been friends if Marisa was accustomed to keeping them. The truth of the matter, though, was that she wasn't. Surely she was too far down this road to turn back now? Her sins were too many to be redeemable and that's all there was to it. She'd chosen her path and made peace with that fact. _Are you sure?_ Ozymandias probed and she snarled in reply, _you know not to ask that._

* * *

Unconsciously, Marisa had returned her fingers to the candle as she pondered how to deal with Dr Malone. The heat from the flame reminded her of its existence all too late and she felt her hands redden, the outer layers of skin harden and her nerves scream in pain. She shushed them and carried on banishing her sudden feelings of remorse and regret to the void in her mind where she kept things that were similarly _unhelpful_. Only when Ozymandias' whimpers became too annoying to listen to did she pull away. "It's okay," she whispered to him. "She won't bother us again."

But as she got up from the table to find somewhere to rest, she knew that she was lying. Chance was bound to find another ridiculous way of bumping them into each other. 

* * *

The third time they saw Mary was the very next day. Marisa, rid of Boreal's deadweight (both figuratively and literally), was finally in possession of real information that might help her get to Lyra. She was heading out of the city towards the jungle when she noticed she and her daemon weren't alone. "Of course," she had spat at no-one in particular, "it had to be now."

The smoke from her campfire was what gave her away, then the vague muttering carried on the breeze and then the characteristic mess of what seemed to be most of her earthly possessions strewn over the ground around her. The golden monkey shrugged, _she doesn't know we're here, we can just carry on._ Marisa shot him a look, _just don't let her see yo_ u, and turned her attention back to Mary. Sat clumsily as ever, she was pawing through that same book again. Marisa coughed and she looked up, startled.

"Dr Malone. How... interesting to see you again."

"A-and you. What are the chances of us running into each other again, huh?"

Marisa hummed, motioning to ask if she could join her at the fire.

"Oh-oh. Of course, sorry. Sit down," Mary stammered and then added jokingly, "Watch yourself on the flames though missy."

She rolled her eyes but made sure to hide her burnt fingers under her thighs as she sat. 

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Marisa marvelling at the variety of books, food, water receptacles, notepads and navigation tools in small piles everywhere and Mary marvelling at the woman who seemed to be becoming a constant in the complicated situation she'd found herself involved in. In the end, it was her that broke the silence.

"Seriously I am surprised to see you again so soon after..." She trailed off, not sure how to describe their previous encounter. 

"Yes. I suppose it is rather odd. I didn't even know you were here in this world until our little candle incident and yet here you are again," Marisa lied and Mary saw right through it. She was now certain that it was her she saw hurrying out of sight the previous morning, her who had been watching her read. Why would she lie? Nothing she did made sense to Mary. Not that, not this, not whatever the hell she had been up to last night and not her running from her office last week. 

"You're not actually a professor are you?"

Marisa stiffened. "Scholar."

"Right. But you're not a scholar? At least not here. Well-In Oxford."

"Not under my own name." Mary made a confused noise and Marisa continued, "I'm a woman and women aren't allowed to publish academic work ourselves where I'm from."

"Is that why you ran from my office? When I asked you about it? Oh, I'm sorry."

Marisa was caught by surprise at her perceptiveness and without thinking raised her hands to her lap to wring them together. 

Mary gasped, "Your fingers."

"They're fine."

"I didn't think you would actually... what happened?"

"They're fine," Marisa repeated but Mary was already fretting around her. She snatched her right hand in hers and began inspecting the wounds.

"I'm sure I must've brought something that can help. That must be painful." She let go and turned her attention to the first aid kit leant against her open backpack. "I've got bandages and some aloe, better than nothing."

"Aloe?" 

"Vera," Mary clarified, though it did nothing to budge the pinch in the other woman's eyebrows.

She tried to apply the balm but Marisa yanked her hand away. 

"I'm just-"

She placed her hand tentatively back on her lap with an awkward cough. "Yes. Sorry."

As she filtered through her different size bandages, Mary thought about how different Marisa was from last night. She wouldn't meet her eyes and was fidgeting almost impatiently with her free hand, as if her help was an inconvenience. She knew that the situation could've been avoided if Marisa hadn't invited herself to the campfire, so why did she? There was no need to other than to ask for some aloe vera, or whatever she called it in her world, and she'd only done that by accident. But why was she trying to conceal her wounds anyway? It struck her that she might not actually be helping but carried on because she knew things would only get worse if the burns went on unprotected.

"You should probably see a doctor when you get back home, pity I'm not the right kind-" Marisa flinched again and Mary wasn't sure if it was because of her thoughtless comment or the cold shock of the aloe. "Sorry, I-I didn't mean... Can you feel that?" 

Marisa nodded briefly, "thank you."

"How did you burn them so badly anyway?"

"I don't know. It was only an accident."

Marisa ignored Mary's doubtful glance, instead focusing on a bug that was traversing a branch to their right and praying her hand would be free soon. Then she could leave and work out why she had come in the first place. Suddenly, she realised something. "Why are you afraid of me being harmed by the spectres but not for yourself?"

"I can't really say. But I'm in no danger. It's you I'm worried about. You say you can control them?"

This wasn't entirely a lie. Mary _was_ concerned about her supposed ability to control these things but it wasn't the woman's own wellbeing that she was worried for. The thing was, it was getting harder and harder to keep track of all the Marisa-related alarm bells that were ringing in her head. All of her logical reasoning was telling her to be careful. In fact, her brain couldn't be screaming more loudly at her to stay away if Marisa wore a big red sign on her forehead that read 'danger'. They all made sense; the bells. There was one for all of her erratic behaviours, one reminding her that she was likely a dangerous drunk, and a very apt fire engine siren that had started only moments ago. And that was without mentioning the vast array of alarms pertaining to Lyra. Lyra hadn't mentioned that she was in Oxford with her mother, only that she was away from home and needed her help. Of course, Mary had obliged and now she'd been tasked with saving her only to find Marisa here too, presumably still looking for Lyra herself though she seemed unwilling to admit it. Mary couldn't be sure of her intentions with her daughter, the spectres or anything else. That was another bell. The scientist in her told her to listen to the evidence and get herself out of here. But Mary didn't study dark matter for no good reason. Dedicating her career to studying the unknown had made her easily drawn to mysteries and what was a mystery without a little peril?

She watched Marisa nod another confirmation without fully seeming to be thinking of Mary or the present moment. Her eyebrows knitted and unknitted a flurry of split-second emotions on her face before she visibly re-focused her thoughts and teased, "Don't worry, I won't set them after you as long as you behave yourself."

"How reassuring..." 

The two exchanged a wry smile and she gently dropped Marisa's hand back on her lap. 

"Well. There you are. Did you want anything else?"

Marisa opened her mouth but couldn't force the "no" from her brain into sound. Instead, she faltered, sensing Ozymandias quirk his head in the corner of her eye. 

Mary pretended not to notice and chuckled, "Perhaps I should teach you some fire safety after all? We can't have you needing me to patch you up every time you're near the stuff."

"No. I suppose we cannot." 

They both paused, mouths hung open and if to speak but staying silent. Neither were quite sure what to make of the situation. Or what to make of how they felt about it. The fire blazed monotonously on in the background for a while until the log finally snapped in two with a _crack_ that brought Mary out of her haze. Her first thought was that maybe Marisa _would_ like her to bandage her hands on a regular basis. And her second was that she hoped the heat would provide a good enough excuse for her suddenly flushed cheeks. 

"Well. I don't doubt that you'd be able to find me again if you need to." 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." And with that, Marisa stood up and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just wondering if the split pov is getting a bit confusing now its less formalised, please let me know if its hard to follow! (and any other feedback you might have, naturally.)  
> Also, can someone please tell me why I picked the 'aloe vera doesn't exist in Lyra's world' hill to die on because I have no idea.


End file.
